Love and Lust
by angel-san801
Summary: Partial AU. More then anything else, there was one part of Fisk's past he wished Michael would never find out about… but sometimes secrets just can't stay hidden. Twoshot Michael/Fisk. Smutty. Full list of warnings inside.
1. Lust

**Love and Lust**

**Rating: Definite M (please see warnings before reading)**

**Warnings: Partial AU/non-con, (male) prostitution, mentions of child prostitution, sex, rape, violence, and (obviously) darker themes**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Knight and Rogue series, and that's probably for the best since I only borrowed it for a second, and look what I did to it.**

_I'm still (slowly) working on my other Knight and Rogue story, but I really liked this idea and couldn't get it out of my head until I wrote it. And I wanted to write something on the risqué side as per my usual. Takes place at the end of the first book. Though the universe, story, ect. pretty much remains the same, I added a fairly big AU aspect as the main theme of the story in that I made Fisk a hooker (hell, yeah I did) and subsequently have changed aspects of his past surrounding that. Everything else is the same. Enjoy(?)_

* * *

><p>"I'll give you six silver roundels and that's the most I'm willing to pay."<p>

"One gold roundel is as low as I'm going. It's more then fair, and you know it. Take it or leave it."

"I've got a family to feed, you know", the man crossed his arms stubbornly, but the lecherous look in his eyes as he looked Fisk up and down was enough to say he would soon cave. That family he was so concerned about no doubt had no knowledge of his interest in underage male whores. Well, just barely underage at seventeen (which had been making it harder to find buyers recently), but still.

After a moment of silence the man let out an exaggerated sigh, shoulders drooping as a signal that he finally gave in. Not that it was much to give in _to_. One gold roundel really was a more then reasonable price for this sort of thing, but this fine man apparently wasn't as loose with his wallet as he was with his sex life. Pity how it always seemed to work out that way. Though if perverts like him paid too much, it would be a lot harder to keep their infidelity a secret, so it probably made sense.

The fact that it made sense didn't mean the rogue had to like it, but money was growing tight again and sometimes you just didn't have a choice. The weather had started to grow cold, too cold to camp out, and they'd been having to stay in inns every night. Fisk's card trick scheme was usually enough to get the money they needed, but when it wasn't, whoring himself out had worked as a suitable supplement. Whether or not it was the only option was… debatable, but it was relatively easy money and as they say, old habits die hard. Needless to say, Michael knew nothing about it, and the rogue planned on keeping it that way, knowing he would no doubt object.

It wasn't as if Fisk was proud of it either. Accustomed to it, yes. Proud, no. But sometimes… sometimes you just had to do things regardless of how you felt about them. He didn't think Michael would understand, which is exactly why he had kept it from him. Even with all the things his employer already knew about part of his not so squeaky clean lifestyle, this was the one of the few details of his past- running into present- he had managed to keep completely hidden. Even despite the various occasions he had already put it into practice during their time together, sneaking off when his companion was asleep or otherwise occupied for these little business trysts. Asleep this time, in their room upstairs.

The inn they were staying at was on the less reputable side, and also functioned as a bar which stayed serving late into the night who's patrons were just as disreputable, making the perfect customers for this sort of trade. The man hadn't been hard to pick out, as he had already been leering rather unashamedly before Fisk had even pronounced himself for sale. The man appeared to be somewhere around late middle age, fairly well kept, though not very good looking (the fiendish leer that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face did little to help), and more then a little bit overweight. Not someone you would typically pick as a lover unless money was being exchanged (too bad for whatever woman had gotten stuck marrying him). All in all, about the average mark.

The money quickly exchanged hands, and Fisk was glad at least that he hadn't been forced to argue to be paid up front this time. Sometimes men would insist on waiting until after and try to skip out on payment or renegotiate the amount on some claim of 'unsatisfactory service'. It had been a lot worse when he was younger, his buyers probably thinking him naïve enough to be easily swindled, and the higher price- for youth was everything in this business- had no doubt been all the more incentive.

Pocketing the soon to be well earned gold, Fisk discreetly as possible- though none of the few other occupants of the room seemed overly interested in their actions- followed the man upstairs and into a room at the end of the hall. The inn wasn't all that full, and the rogue estimated about half the rooms leading to it were unoccupied, though it still wasn't quite as far away from his own room as he would have liked. The man had probably asked for an end room on purpose for the sake of privacy. Of course, specifically asking for extra privacy was about the same as shouting out that you were planning on doing something scandalous and/or illegal, but Fisk kept that opinion to himself as it wouldn't really do either or them any good now. And it wasn't as if he wanted anyone in the other rooms hearing. Especially not a certain someone… He tried to rid himself of intrusive thoughts of his companion as the man shut the door behind them.

"So where would you like to start…?" Fisk's voice took on a well-practiced seductive tone as he slowly began undressing. He'd long since learned the importance and subtle art of the lead up, making an effort to take his time shedding each layer. This sort of light teasing was something that usually got men like these off, but apparently this one wasn't quite so patient.

The man made his way across the room to him in a few swift strides, and before Fisk could protest, roughly tore his shirt the rest of the way open. A couple buttons clattered to the floor, by his luck likely rolling under a piece of furniture or into some crevice never to be seen again.

"On your knees", the man growled lowly, roughly shoving the rogue down even as he willingly tried to comply with the command. It was more then clear what he wanted…

Some men were nervous about this sort of thing, having to be coaxed into it with foreplay. Old creepy here obviously was not one of them. Looked like it would be straight to business this time. That was fine too. Simpler, less time consuming.

There was the clinking sound of metal on metal as the man undid his belt and lowered his trousers. He already had a full- if not all that impressive- hard on. Which was good. Less time needed to get him off that way. And if he was that quick to get aroused, hopefully he would be quick to finish as well.

"Suck", the man commanded getting straight to the point.

Fisk didn't hesitate. He'd done this enough times to get past the initial wave of revulsion at the act, just as he'd learned to suppress his body's automatic gag reflex when the thing went down his throat. He focused on relaxing his throat muscles, allowing it to slip all the way in, his tongue running against it as it went down.

He pulled back with the practiced slowness of a well trained whore, before leisurely running his tongue from the shaft to the tip, licking up some of the pre-cum leaking out the slit.

The man shuddered and groaned above him, and the rogue felt two calloused hands fist rather painfully in his hair.

Fisk parted his lips, taking the man's length in once more, managing only a muffled grunt of surprise as the hands clutching the back of his head violently yanked him further forward, choking him in his unprepared state. He felt his throat involuntarily constrict as he gagged around the sudden intrusion. Fisk managed to recover quickly, relaxing his throat once more, and thankful that the stinging threat of tears went away along with the gagging.

It was more then a little disconcerting how much more the man seemed to be enjoying himself whilst causing him such discomfort.

'You're just lucky I didn't bite you…' the rogue thought bitterly.

Still clutching onto his head, the man began to aggressively shove himself in and out. This one really seemed to like it rough. Which was more then a little worrisome. Willingly subjecting himself to this was starting to seem like a bad choice. Although selling yourself to some strange pervert you knew nothing about was very seldom a 'good' or more precisely 'safe' choice.

The man had himself most of the way in when he came, but pulled out quickly enough to let a good bit of the spray hit Fisk in the face.

The rogue swallowed all of the semen that had been deposited into his mouth almost without thinking, but before he could bring a hand to try to wipe away the cum dripping from his face, found himself being violently thrown to the floor.

The man must have had a decent amount of muscle under his fat with the strength behind the action. Fisk couldn't help letting out a sharp cry as his head slammed against the edge of the bed with dizzying force. Yes, it was becoming all too apparent that this had most certainly been a bad choice. As was one of the many dangers of this line of work. Most times you just had to have unpleasant sex with an unattractive stranger. Sometimes said stranger was an insane sadist and tried to kill you.

It wasn't the first time a client had gotten violent. This sort of thing happened all the time, surprisingly less to female prostitutes since they typically worked in brothels which offered more security. Male whores however usually being children or teenagers were not strictly legal and thus worked in relative secret offering them less protection. Not to mention making it impossible for them to go to the law with any wrongs done by clients.

Although all the times it had happened before had been close calls, and Fisk hazily started weighing the pros and cons of calling for help.

He was still seeing stars from the blow to the head when the man pinned him. The bastard was smiling. Thoughts of fulfillment of paid services were all but out the window at this point in favor of wishing to live to tomorrow (the blow job alone was good enough for the meager payment anyway), and Fisk struggled wholeheartedly against his client's grip. The amount of fight he managed to put up must have caught the man off guard because even in his still slightly stunned state and disadvantageous position, the rogue managed to throw him off. His good fortune (if you could call it that) didn't last for long though as he hardly had time to get to his feet before the man gained back control, gripping him firmly by the arms and slamming him hard against the wall.

A small third-rate painting that had been hanging rather precariously crashed to the floor with the action, making a racket that Fisk couldn't decide whether was a good or a bad thing.

"I paid for you, you filthy whore, and you're gonna take whatever I give you, got it?"

No, but it wasn't as if he had much choice in the matter. Apparently expecting a response, the man slammed him against the wall again even harder, repeating the tail end of his question, but more forcefully this time.

Spitting in the bastard's face was an appealing option. But one that would only result in more pain and would gain precious little other then a very brief sense of satisfaction. Refusing him would do no good. Gritting his teeth, not trusting himself to speak nor knowing if he even could, Fisk nodded. He was shaking and could feel his heart racing. There were some things you never got used to.

The man sneered, and the rogue was with little gentleness shoved onto the bed. The man followed, straddling him pinning him to the bed. Those rough hands undid his belt, before roughly yanking his shoes, then pants off, casually tossing them on the floor. His shirt though unbuttoned was still on, the only item of clothing he now wore.

Fisk's body stiffened and he closed his eyes as he felt a tongue trail across his bare chest. He heard the man laugh lowly. And then his legs were being spread apart. He closed his eyes tighter, but could do little to brace himself for the pain that followed.

Even no longer being a virgin, being entered completely unprepared was still excruciatingly painful. The agonized cry that tore from the rogue's lips apparently angered the man, for he yelled at him to shut up, accompanying the command with painfully tightening his grip on his legs which he had lifted high to accommodate his entry.

The man went ruthlessly hard and fast, taking no consideration for his lay's comfort. Fisk could do nothing to quiet his own cries and whimpers that came with each new thrust, which only seemed to serve in making the man's assault even rougher. His fists were bunched tightly in the blankets at his side in a vain attempt to fight through the pain. He was passively aware that tears had started to drip down his cheeks and around the same time he felt warm liquid which was no doubt blood began leaking from his entrance from the abuse it was taking. He wished he could not identify the feeling so quickly, wished that all of this was not so familiar that it brought back flashes of memories that he had fought years to suppress, or that the strong familiarity could at least make it easier to take, but it didn't.

The man continued to pound in and out with the brutal voracity of only the truly sexually depraved, and had taken to shouting loud, crude jeers at the prone body underneath him-as if the situation had not been unpleasant enough. All Fisk could do was lay back and hope it would be over soon. The hot seed finally spilling into him was a relief and blessing. He just hoped the man was not some sort of insatiable maniac and would be satisfied now after having finished a second time.

He didn't get the chance to find out however, as it was just then, before the man had even pulled out, that the door was forced open with a loud crash. Fisk's eyes flew open at the sound, and immediately his stomach seemed to drop.

The rogue would have preferred anyone else, even a sheriff more then likely to lock him up for illegal prostitution while letting the client/rapist go with little more then a slap on the wrists (which _had_ actually happened before).

Anyone but his current savior who was the very last person he wanted to see this, and who was now staring shocked wide-eyed in the doorway taking in the whole damn thing.

Michael…

* * *

><p><em>Since there's only one other M rated K'n'R fic, and mine's all graphic and rapey and I made one of our beloved characters a whore I was a bit nervous about posting it since I'm not sure what kind of reaction it'll get, and actually considered not… but… Well, with so few fics for this series, it felt wrong to not post something I wrote for it.<em> _So… good? Bad? Please be gentle because I'm a delicate little flower. Ha ha… Constructive criticism is welcome though._

_Special thank you to P3Dude for helping me out _a lot _with this story!_

_This was going to be a oneshot, but it just seemed to cut off nicely there. Other half and the second chapter of my other story are in the works and should hopefully be coming soon._

_~angel-san_


	2. Love

**Warnings: Less then chapter one which had more warnings then a bottle of drain cleaner. So if you read that, you should be fine with this. ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way own the Knight and Rogue series. I own only my weird pervy little fantasies.**

_Last half. Michael/Fisk in this part. Michael wasn't really even in the first half… A little late to be saving your luv muffin, baby._

* * *

><p>For an agonizingly long moment, Michael just stood there seemingly frozen in place, his shock and horror displayed clearly on his face at the sight before him.<p>

The client's reaction to the sudden intrusion was a mix of surprise, anger, confusion and possibly embarrassment (though that emotion required shame which he didn't seem to have a lot of). He got up quickly seeming flustered, but mostly just mad, pulling his trousers back up, and was shouting furiously at the knight errant as he stomped over to the door.

That was when Michael seemed to get over his initial shock. In the blink of an eye his expression shifted from astonishment to anger, and that was the only warning anyone in the room got before he threw a punch at the man so hard it knocked him clear to the ground.

The sudden, violent action was surprising to say the least, but not so surprising as the expression of pure rage that darkened the knight's normally kind, honest face, making him look almost like a completely different person.

Fisk had never seen his employer so angry before. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen _anyone_ this angry before. Even not being directly on the receiving end of it, it was frightening enough to send chills down his spine.

As the man tried to pick himself up, Michael grabbed him roughly by the collar, lifting him the rest of the way to his feet before slamming him into the wall (the walls were taking a lot of abuse tonight). He was about an inch or so taller then the man, and with such adrenaline on his side, the pervert didn't stand a chance. The man tried to get words out, but the knight's hands were squeezed tightly around his throat. He was going to kill him…

This jolted Fisk out of the daze he hadn't realized he was in. It wasn't that he was overly fond of the man, but Michael was unredeemed and if he took any rash actions, there would be no saving him.

"Michael, stop!" Fisk shouted, and tried to stand, but his legs ended up giving out and sending him to the floor instead.

Michael's attention swiftly shifted, and his fingers must have loosened at least somewhat, for the man was able to let out a desperate gasp for air. "What do you mean 'stop'? This man- he- What he did to you, he deserves-!"

"You're unredeemed. If you do anything to him-"

"You expect me to just let him go?" Michael's anger had taken on a sort of wild desperation, tinged with something else which was difficult to identify clearly, and Fisk couldn't meet his eyes long enough to try.

"There's nothing we can do…"

"Yes there is! I may be unredeemed, but I already declared your debt repaid! If I can do nothing to him, then we will turn him in and the judicars will make him pay for his actions!"

This was the part Fisk had been wishing to avoid. The ugly truth was that the law didn't care what anyone did to illegal prostitutes. The man could have killed him, and no one would have so much as batted an eye.

The second they heard that the man had paid for him, their case would be out the window, and the rogue would likely be thrown in prison instead.

"Let him go, Michael." He couldn't meet his eyes, but even not seeing his expression, he knew his employer was not going to accept his command.

"Fisk, how can you say that after-?"

"I told you, there's nothing we can do", he still could not bring himself to look at him, and kept his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. Fisk could tell Michael was about to interrupt, so he plowed straight ahead, not giving him the chance. "I… I solicited him. Turning him in would do no good..."

The rogue could not look up, but could easily guess what his companion's expression must look like. Shock… Confusion… Disgust…

"That's right, I paid for the whore! You can't do anything to me!" It was amazing the man could be that brave whilst still red in the face from lack of oxygen and hands still at his throat.

"Fisk… Why would you…?" The knight errant's voice sounded shocked, incredulous. His fingers fell limply from the man's throat, and the bastard took the opportunity to roughly shove past him and make his escape out the door.

Michael looked like he wanted to go after him.

"Don't", Fisk managed to croak. His throat felt tight, his body ached all over, and he felt completely physically and emotionally spent. He wanted to be picking himself up off the floor right now, getting his clothes back on and possibly regaining what little dignity he still had left, but at the moment just didn't have it in him.

Michael didn't make any move to leave, but he didn't say anything either, and somehow the silence was more agonizing then any words could have been.

"Why were you even here…?" The rogue's voice came out sounding more broken then he'd wanted it to. It was of little importance, and he could already guess the answer, but he had to break the silence somehow.

It took Michael a moment to respond, and when he did his voice was quiet. "… I woke up and you were gone. I waited but… when you did not return, I went looking. I could hear banging and shouts from the hall… I thought it could be trouble, but I did not think…" He trailed off, but there was little need for him to continue.

Despite himself, a small bitter smile crossed Fisk's lips. Of course his employer would have to get involved if he thought someone was in danger. And it always seemed to turn out poorly for the both of them…

"Why did you do it?"

Apparently it was Fisk's turn to be questioned. He did not particularly feel like answering though. Now or ever.

"You can go back to our room now. I'll be-"

"Fisk."

"You knew I was a criminal when you redeemed me, this-"

"This is different."

Of course it was. This was the part where his companion, finding out what filth he truly was finally realized he could never be reformed and give up on the ridiculous task. He would no doubt want to leave him now, and that should have been okay. It should have been what he wanted. The smart thing would have been to leave the moment Michael had told him his debt was repaid, but he had lost that chance over a week ago. Now, as always, the decision was being made for him. One would think he'd be used to it by now, but…

Fisk realized his pants which had been cast aside were beside him. He picked them up, fishing around in the pockets until he found…

"Here", he said, tossing the shiny metal coin to his companion who just managed to catch it.

Michael looked at the roundel in his hand, then at Fisk, his confusion obvious. "What is…?""The payment. You can have it." He managed to put more confidence into his voice now, even if he was mostly still speaking to the floorboards.

Michael's voice was tight, "I don't want this."

"I know it's not much, I really am getting too old for this, but I figure since you rescued me, you at least deserve-"

"I do not need payment for helping you. I… What do you mean 'too old'…? Fisk, how young were you when you began doing this?" His voice was far too soft, far too pitying. It figured. Leave it to Michael to find pity for a prostitute. He would have preferred a punch in the face.

"I… It doesn't matter", Fisk managed to pull himself up, having to grip tightly to the bedpost as he did so. It hurt to stand after the abuse he had taken, and his legs shook even leaning heavily against the bed as he was, but at least he wasn't sprawled out on the floor anymore. "Please, just go. I'll clean up, and then-"

His legs buckled again, but Michael caught him this time before he could fall completely. He tried to shove the knight away, but had very little fight left in him, and was forced to concede with being firmly yet gently guided to sit on the bed.

His employer backed off then, walking towards the door, and for a moment, the rogue was hopeful- though he knew not why his heart seemed to clench at the thought- that he would follow his command and leave, but he had merely gone to shut the door. Obviously they would not want to have someone looking in right now with him in this shameful state…

The task done, he came back to the bed, kneeling down in front of Fisk, causing the rogue to shift uncomfortably. The bed wasn't very tall, and their height difference coming into check, the knight didn't have too far to look up to meet his eyes.

Fisk didn't like him there, where he could see him so clearly, and he still was too cursedly shaken up to put up a very strong front.

"I… I'm sorry for everything you've had to go through. Even if you do not wish to tell me all of it, but… but I want you to know that this is not all there is. What that man, or what any other has done to you twas wrong, and has nothing to do with love, but love does exist."

The rogue let out a sharp, joyless laugh at this. "If it does, I have never seen it. Noble Sir, 'love' tis merely what you speak of when you want a woman to come to bed with you." He was trying to play it off lightly with the sarcastic remark, but his façade wasn't working, and despite how much he tried to stop it, he felt his eyes start to sting with tears.

Fisk tried to turn away so his employer wouldn't see, but he couldn't hide, not from those eyes looking so attentively at him. And as a tear escaped to trail down his face, a hand gently came up to wipe it away.

"It may be hard to find, but it exists…"

"How would you know? Those ballads you love so much have rotted your brain." He was still crying, curse it, but he couldn't seem to stop. And Michael just wouldn't leave him be. Fisk closed his eyes, taking a deep breath trying his hardest to make the tears stop… and then the unexpected happened.

Michael caught his chin in one hand lowering his face, and before Fisk could think to stop him laid a gentle kiss on his lips.

"W-what was…?"

"Fisk, I love you."

For a moment, the rogue looked stunned, but then… his expression shifted, his slightly open mouth closing and forming a bitter smile, his unguarded self being hidden again by a sturdy wall.

"I would not have expected it from you, but if you wanted to bed me, all you had to do was ask. I do owe you for saving me I suppose."

Michael- curse him- looked genuinely hurt, and despite himself Fisk felt a twinge of guilt for his blunt statement. It had been true though, he was sure of it, and his past experience would not allow him to believe otherwise.

The hurt look on his employer's face changed to that look of noble determination he so often wore. "If you do not believe me, then I shall prove it to you."

With that, Michael kissed him again, slowly standing as he did so, leaning in as he gently guided Fisk to lay down on the bed. This wasn't convincing him so far, but the rogue let him carry on, obediently laying down as the knight errant came to straddle him, still kissing him, though not the violent, ravenous kisses he was used to- the ones that seemed to often involve more teeth then tongue and would occasionally draw blood- but soft, caring even.

If they were going to do this, they might as well get on with it. Fisk tried to reach for his companion's belt, but his hand was swiftly batted away.

"You don't have to do anything", Michael murmured softly, breaking away from his lips to trail kisses down the rogue's neck, occasionally nibbling gently, but never once biting down hard enough to cause pain.

Fisk found himself shuddering and whimpering at the ministrations, even though mentally he just wanted him to hurry up and do it. If he wanted to have his way with him, fine, but he didn't like the knight pretending that he cared like this. Especially not when he was so damned convincing at it.

He made his way to his collar-bone, then down to his chest, taking his time as he worked his way down his torso, seeming to leave no patch of skin untouched.

"Michael-" Fisk started, but was immediately, though not unkindly silenced with a kiss to the lips.

As the kiss was deepened, a hand slowly made its way lower. Fisk moaned into his companion's mouth as the knight's hand began to caress his lower regions, but was again swatted away by his free hand when he tried to reciprocate.

And then, he slowly broke away from the kiss, taking his hand away as well as he lowered himself down.

"Y-you don't have to do that!" Fisk protested, starting to sit up, but gentle hands pushed him back down.

"I know I don't. I want to." Michael's smile was so kind and sincere as he said this, that Fisk felt his eyes start to sting again.

"Why do you have to say things like that…?"The rogue couldn't stop his voice from shaking, and his companion smiled again, softly kissing his cheek where a tear had started to trickle down.

"I already told you. Because I love you."

This only served to make him cry harder. Because it really did feel like he meant it, and as much as he didn't want to, Fisk couldn't help but wholeheartedly believe his idiot employer when he said those words. He choked back a sob, and Michael kissed him again, before moving back down. But he paused before taking any further action.

"You do want this, right? I would not do anything you did not wish of me…"

Fisk could only nod numbly, sniffing pathetically from all the crying, and Michael smiled that same stupid sincere smile before taking him into his mouth.

He had no prior experience at doing this sort of thing, but it didn't matter. It wasn't as if anyone had ever bothered to do this for the rogue before, so he had nothing to compare it to anyway.

Fisk moaned, shutting his eyes tightly and hands fisting uselessly in the sheets, feeling utterly overwhelmed both physically and emotionally.

Every time he had sex before, even if it had not been as bad as the most recent incident, it had always been with an uncaring, unaffectionate stranger. To have it done so gently and lovingly by someone who seemed to care only for his happiness and want nothing in return was an entirely foreign concept and one he had never once even considered. But now Michael was doing just that, and he could not help but feel that he did not deserve this, but at the same time clung to the idea like a lifeline.

The rogue grasped tighter at the blankets, panting and gasping for breath. He knew he would be cuming any second now, and suddenly felt the need to warn his companion. Even if he was willing to go this far, he didn't know if he would actually want to swallow the stuff or not…

"M-Michael… I think I'm about to…" He could barely get out the words, but the meaning was obvious.

The knight did not back away though. When Fisk came, he took it all, swallowing and then licking up what remained.

"…You didn't have to do that…" Fisk panted out, still breathing heavily and face flushed.

"I know", Michael said, coming back up to lay beside the rogue before kissing him softly, "but I'd do anything for you."

Fisk couldn't help but smile as Michael wiped away the traces of tears on his face. "I love you, Michael…"

"I love you too", he smiled back, pulling the rogue in closer as he kissed him again.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Reviews make me happy, and constructive criticism is welcome!<em>

_I tried to make the Michael/Fisk part as sweet as I could, and possibly _too_ sweet but I don't care. They're so cute together, it's hard not to make them sweet._

_Oh, and if anyone wants to give suggestions for Knight and Rogue oneshots I could write in between writing Today, PM me or leave it in your review or whatever and I'll try to write them (having trouble thinking of ideas...)._

_~angel-san_


	3. No Love alternate ending

**Chapter 2 (Alternate ending): No Love**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**anything**_**… To do with K&R.**

_Well, I know I marked this as complete already, but after finishing it, I got to thinking about some of my original plans for the story that I ended up throwing out. In particular the ending, which I ended up changing from my first idea simply because I wanted it to end happily with Michael and Fisk in love and both knowing and accepting their feelings for each other (because that really is the way it was meant to be right?). Buuuuuttt… Since I still couldn't get my first idea out of my head, I just had to write it, so here it is. Prepare for an unhappy ending! _

_Everything in italics is the same as the original chapter two, regular font is where the new part starts._

* * *

><p><em>For an agonizingly long moment, Michael just stood there seemingly frozen in place, his shock and horror displayed clearly on his face at the sight before him. <em>

_The client's reaction to the sudden intrusion was a mix of surprise, anger, confusion and possibly embarrassment (though that emotion required shame which he didn't seem to have a lot of). He got up quickly seeming flustered, but mostly just mad, pulling his trousers back up, and was shouting furiously at the knight errant as he stomped over to the door. _

_That was when Michael seemed to get over his initial shock. In the blink of an eye his expression shifted from astonishment to anger, and that was the only warning anyone in the room got before he threw a punch at the man so hard it knocked him clear to the ground. _

_The sudden, violent action was surprising to say the least, but not so surprising as the expression of pure rage that darkened the knight's normally kind, honest face, making him look almost like a completely different person._

_Fisk had never seen his employer so angry before. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone this angry before. Even not being directly on the receiving end of it, it was frightening enough to send chills down his spine._

_As the man tried to pick himself up, Michael grabbed him roughly by the collar, lifting him the rest of the way to his feet before slamming him into the wall (the walls were taking a lot of abuse tonight). He was about an inch or so taller then the man, and with such adrenaline on his side, the pervert didn't stand a chance. The man tried to get words out, but the knight's hands were squeezed tightly around his throat. He was going to kill him…_

_This jolted Fisk out of the daze he hadn't realized he was in. It wasn't that he was overly fond of the man, but Michael was unredeemed and if he took any rash actions, there would be no saving him._

"_Michael, stop!" Fisk shouted, and tried to stand, but his legs ended up giving out and sending him to the floor instead._

_Michael's attention swiftly shifted, and his fingers must have loosened at least somewhat, for the man was able to let out a desperate gasp for air. "What do you mean 'stop'? This man- he- What he did to you, he deserves-!"_

"_You're unredeemed. If you do anything to him-"_

"_You expect me to just let him go?" Michael's anger had taken on a sort of wild desperation, tinged with something else which was difficult to identify clearly, and Fisk couldn't meet his eyes long enough to try._

"_There's nothing we can do…"_

"_Yes there is! I may be unredeemed, but I already declared your debt repaid! If I can do nothing to him, then we will turn him in and the judicars will make him pay for his actions!"_

_This was the part Fisk had been wishing to avoid. The ugly truth was that the law didn't care what anyone did to illegal prostitutes. The man could have killed him, and no one would have so much as batted an eye. _

_The second they heard that the man had paid for him, their case would be out the window, and the rogue would likely be thrown in prison instead._

"_Let him go, Michael." He couldn't meet his eyes, but even not seeing his expression, he knew his employer was not going to accept his command._

"_Fisk, how can you say that after-?"_

"_I told you, there's nothing we can do", he still could not bring himself to look at him, and kept his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. Fisk could tell Michael was about to interrupt, so he plowed straight ahead, not giving him the chance. "I… I solicited him. Turning him in would do no good..."_

_The rogue could not look up, but could easily guess what his companion's expression must look like. Shock… Confusion… Disgust…_

"_That's right, I paid for the whore! You can't do anything to me!" It was amazing the man could be that brave whilst still red in the face from lack of oxygen and hands still at his throat._

"_Fisk… Why would you…?" The knight errant's voice sounded shocked, incredulous. His fingers fell limply from the man's throat, and the bastard took the opportunity to roughly shove past him and make his escape out the door. _

_Michael looked like he wanted to go after him._

"_Don't", Fisk managed to croak. His throat felt tight, his body ached all over, and he felt completely physically and emotionally spent. He wanted to be picking himself up off the floor right now, getting his clothes back on and possibly regaining what little dignity he still had left, but at the moment just didn't have it in him. _

_Michael didn't make any move to leave, but he didn't say anything either, and somehow the silence was more agonizing then any words could have been._

"_Why were you even here…?" The rogue's voice came out sounding more broken then he'd wanted it to. It was of little importance, and he could already guess the answer, but he had to break the silence somehow._

_It took Michael a moment to respond, and when he did his voice was quiet. "… I woke up and you were gone. I waited but… when you did not return, I went looking. I could hear banging and shouts from the hall… I thought it could be trouble, but I did not think…" He trailed off, but there was little need for him to continue._

_Despite himself, a small bitter smile crossed Fisk's lips. Of course his employer would have to get involved if he thought someone was in danger. And it always seemed to turn out poorly for the both of them…_

"_Why did you do it?" _

_Apparently it was Fisk's turn to be questioned. He did not particularly feel like answering though. Now or ever._

"_You can go back to our room now. I'll be-"_

"_Fisk."_

"_You knew I was a criminal when you redeemed me, this-"_

"_This is different."_

_Of course it was. This was the part where his companion, finding out what filth he truly was finally realized he could never be reformed and give up on the ridiculous task. He would no doubt want to leave him now, and that should have been okay. It should have been what he wanted. The smart thing would have been to leave the moment Michael had told him his debt was repaid, but he had lost that chance over a week ago. Now, as always, the decision was being made for him. One would think he'd be used to it by now, but…_

_Fisk realized his pants which had been cast aside were beside him. He picked them up, fishing around in the pockets until he found…_

"_Here", he said, tossing the shiny metal coin to his companion who just managed to catch it. _

_Michael looked at the roundel in his hand, then at Fisk, his confusion obvious. "What is…?""The payment. You can have it." He managed to put more confidence into his voice now, even if he was mostly still speaking to the floorboards._

_Michael's voice was tight, "I don't want this."_

"_I know it's not much, I really am getting too old for this, but I figure since you rescued me, you at least deserve-"_

"_I do not need payment for helping you. I… What do you mean 'too old'…? Fisk, how young were you when you began doing this?" His voice was far too soft, far too pitying. It figured. Leave it to Michael to find pity for a prostitute. He would have preferred a punch in the face._

"_I… It doesn't matter", Fisk managed to pull himself up, having to grip tightly to the bedpost as he did so. It hurt to stand after the abuse he had taken, and his legs shook even leaning heavily against the bed as he was, but at least he wasn't sprawled out on the floor anymore. "Please, just go. I'll clean up, and then-"_

_His legs buckled again, but Michael caught him this time before he could fall completely. He tried to shove the knight away, but had very little fight left in him, and was forced to concede with being firmly yet gently guided to sit on the bed._

_His employer backed off then, walking towards the door, and for a moment, the rogue was hopeful- though he knew not why his heart seemed to clench at the thought- that he would follow his command and leave, but he had merely gone to shut the door. Obviously they would not want to have someone looking in right now with him in this shameful state…_

_The task done, he came back to the bed, kneeling down in front of Fisk, causing the rogue to shift uncomfortably. The bed wasn't very tall, and their height difference coming into check, the knight didn't have too far to look up to meet his eyes._

_Fisk didn't like him there, where he could see him so clearly, and he still was too cursedly shaken up to put up a very strong front._

"_I… I'm sorry for everything you've had to go through. Even if you do not wish to tell me all of it, but… but I want you to know that this is not all there is. What that man, or what any other has done to you twas wrong, and has nothing to do with love, but love does exist."_

_The rogue let out a sharp, joyless laugh at this. "If it does, I have never seen it. Noble Sir, 'love' tis merely what you speak of when you want a woman to come to bed with you." He was trying to play it off lightly with the sarcastic remark, but his façade wasn't working, and despite how much he tried to stop it, he felt his eyes start to sting with tears._

_Fisk tried to turn away so his employer wouldn't see, but he couldn't hide, not from those eyes looking so attentively at him. And as a tear escaped to trail down his face, a hand gently came up to wipe it away._

"_It may be hard to find, but it exists…"_

"_How would you know? Those ballads you love so much have rotted your brain." He was still crying, curse it, but he couldn't seem to stop. And Michael just wouldn't leave him be. Fisk closed his eyes, taking a deep breath trying his hardest to make the tears stop… and then the unexpected happened._

_Michael caught his chin in one hand lowering his face, and before Fisk could think to stop him laid a gentle kiss on his lips._

"_W-what was…?"_

"_Fisk, I love you."_

_For a moment, the rogue looked stunned, but then… his expression shifted, his slightly open mouth closing and forming a bitter smile, his unguarded self being hidden again by a sturdy wall. _

"_I would not have expected it from you, but if you wanted to bed me, all you had to do was ask. I do owe you for saving me I suppose."_

_Michael- curse him- looked genuinely hurt, and despite himself Fisk felt a twinge of guilt for his blunt statement. It had been true though, he was sure of it, and his past experience would not allow him to believe otherwise._ Michael just wanted to use him. Just like everyone else. There was no such thing as love, and those who spoke of it were merely trying to manipulate you for achieving their own ends. Life had taught the rogue that lesson time and time again.

"That's not what-" Michael started, but Fisk cut him off.

"Of course it is. It's all right though. You don't have to hide it, I understand." Fisk's voice had taken on a silky seductive tone, and as he spoke his hand had slyly drifted down to lightly stroke Michael's chest, fingers casually toying with the buttons of his shirt. If this was what the knight wanted, then Fisk was going to make damn sure he got it. And it _was_ what Michael wanted, Fisk was certain of it. There was no other reason for him to say what he had, to have treated him so kindly. It was merely a moment of weakness that had allowed him to be temporarily fooled into believing otherwise (weakness that a part of him was still angry Michael had been allowed to see, though he wasn't sure what difference it really made anymore).

Deep down he knew that Michael was not that skilled an actor or liar (whatever one wanted to call it), but the rogue chose to ignore this fact and the further confusion that came with it.

If Fisk had allowed himself to fully acknowledge his emotions then, he would have known that it was not betrayal he felt, but need to be betrayed. His idiot employer was altogether too kind, too selfless for even the explanation of mere stupidity, and that attitude simply did not fit anywhere in Fisk's view of the world. No one had ever been this kind to him before without some sort of ulterior motive behind their actions, and he had learned from a young age to always scrutinize, to never take others' words and deeds at face value.

To say that Michael truly meant it when he said that he loved him would be to throw everything the rogue knew into question. Twas much safer from that perspective to deem it all a lie.

Michael looked down with an almost humorous look of shock at Fisk's hand still caressing him in such a sensual manner.

"So, Noble Sir, which way would you like me?" Fisk downright purred putting everything he could into sounding as much a whore as possible to the still stunned knight. He didn't give a damn about his own self-respect anymore. He wanted- no _needed_- this. Needed to prove that this was all this was. That Michael didn't- couldn't possibly- love him. "You may have whatever you want from me."

Michael blinked, seeming to snap out of his momentary daze, "I don't want anything from you! Not like this! Not if it hurts you!" He said desperately as his eyes alit with that same honest passion as when he'd said that he loved him.

This sent a spark of anger through Fisk that he could not properly justify, and was only made more angry by the fact that he could not justify it.

"Then what?" The rogue shouted, angrily retracting his hand back to his side, his attempt at seduction forgotten in blind rage. "What the hell _do _you want from me? Would you please just tell me? I'm too tired for games…" His voice trailed off at the end, his emotional strength failing him. He really was too tired for this.

He lowered his face, lifting his hand up to cover it, though he could see through the cracks in his fingers, Michael looking up at him sadly. Pityingly. He hated it. Why couldn't the fool just leave him alone?

Or a better question, why couldn't Fisk leave _him_. Nothing had forced him to stay after Michael had declared his debt repaid, he reminded himself accusingly. If anyone was the fool here… It was him.

A noise escaped Fisk's lips, too quiet at first to define, but slowly developing into a broken, mirthless chuckle.

"Really, Noble Sir, I just don't understand you…" The rogue muttered through his quiet laughter. "Or myself…", he added silently.

"Fisk…" Michael started, but was cut off as Fisk roughly grabbed his chin, pulling it closer for a kiss that was considerably less chaste then the previous one. The knight errant did not start off making any indecent attempts, however he offered no complaint or resistance to the tongue invading his mouth, nor the teeth playfully nibbling at his lower-lip, and the rogue noted with a swell of bitter triumph did not take long to reciprocate his advances. He was hesitant at first, but grew bolder far more quickly then Fisk might have expected of him. The rogue allowed his companion dominance, to penetrate whatever corner of his mouth he wished, willingly allowed himself to be laid down and pinned to the bed as the heat of the moment seemed to take over, moaned in a way he knew would illicit lustful desire.

Snaking his arms around the other's lower back, Fisk guided Michael's hips further down to rub against his own. The knight let out a slight muffled gasp at the friction it created. Fisk could feel now through his pants that his companion was already hard.

Twas so easy, it could scarcely be called a victory. For all the knight's talk, Fisk had expected to have to work harder then this. Michael must have been holding back for some time to let go of his inhibitions this quickly.

Their lips finally parted messily, leaving them both panting and gasping for air, and Fisk made a satisfied mental note of how flushed Michael's face was.

With all the slyness of a skilled pickpocket, Fisk's hands were at Michael's belt before the knight even realized it.

"Wait, Fisk… I told you, I don't-", Michael started to protest, seeming to have regained some semblance of rational thought from the disorienting depths of lust and craving, but was halted in his noble endeavor by Fisk's hand stroking his hardened length. The knight moaned a little, feeling a shudder wrack his body at the pleasure of another's hand touching him so intimately, making it so hard not to just give in, but…

"I know what you told me, Sir Michael", Fisk said, his husky tone betraying a hint of bite behind his words. "But you'll be needing to take care of _this_", the rogue punctuated his statement by releasing his companion's erection from the confines of his now unfastened pants, "and _I_ already told _you_ that I am more then willing to help."

"But… you… ah… F-Fisk…", Michael tried to say something most likely along the lines of 'but you already got your ass torn up by that other man' or 'but you don't really want this', however his attempts were ruined by the hand that had begun stroking him again. No man, no matter how noble his intentions could put up much of a fight against their lower mind, the true lord and master of their actions.

Fisk smirked to himself seeing just how much affect such little stimulation was having on his companion and his supposed morals.

Still stroking the knight's length, though no more then to merely be called teasing, Fisk shifted his legs open further as he simultaneously arched his hips invitingly, letting Michael know _exactly_ where he wanted him.

And for once, for better or worse, Michael acted precisely the way Fisk wanted him to. Innumerable sore spots flared up in protest when Michael entered him, but Fisk stubbornly bit back the cry that rose in his throat, not allowing his pain to show. This was what he wanted after all. This was what he had asked for- his own bitter victory over his companion's lies- and he should be happy to receive it.

Though he knew better then to think the knight was _trying_ to be rough, his movements were awkward and clumsy. His technique was as poor as a virgin… or… _was_ Michael a virgin? The idea had never struck Fisk (though granted, before now he had given precious little thought to his companion's sexual history) and it somehow seemed incredibly strange, even if he wasn't sure exactly why. There didn't seem to be any reason why Fisk should have just assumed that he wasn't. He was still relatively young after all, and enough of a naïve romantic to only seek that sort of thing from a 'true love' or 'soul mate' or however the ballads liked to phrase it. Perhaps it was because 'virginity' had been no more then a novel concept to Fisk since before he was old enough to have fully appreciated what it meant. Ever since he had met a certain man by the name of Jack Banister, who had taken in the filthy nine year old street urchin and shown him a way to live that was in many ways only slightly preferable to a slow and painful death by starvation.

For a moment, it crossed the rogue's mind that he should feel guilty for making this his companion's first time, but no sooner then he had thought this, swiftly cast it aside. After all could one really say that the ravisher and not the ravished was the one being used? Besides, he didn't have any actual proof to back up his theory. Mayhap Michael was merely a terrible lover with or without practice.

Though he had to grit his teeth against the resurgence of pain that came with every thrust, Fisk made himself fight the instinctual reaction telling him to pull away, arching up into each one to take him in even deeper, silently encouraging- no _begging _to be fucked harder.

"Michael…" He moaned, voice suggesting an erotic breathless ecstasy, and showing no indication of his extreme pain and discomfort. Though it was not all an act… A part of him enjoyed the pain- namely the part of him between his legs (his already slightly weeping erection being proof of this) . Even if it was unpleasant, it seemed to have become nearly indistinguishable from the feelings of pleasure that usually came with it, as if the two were synonymous and one could not go without the other. "Does it- ah… feel good…?"

Michael didn't respond, and didn't meet his companion's gaze, an expression Fisk couldn't quite define on his flushed, slightly sweat-streaked face.

Fisk frowned, which quickly turned into a poorly hidden grimace as a particularly painful area was rubbed against. That look… he didn't like it. What was it?

Guilt. It looked like guilt… tinged with sadness and self-hatred, and all the things that _were not_ what his companion was supposed to be feeling. Fisk was giving him what he wanted, wasn't he! So where did he get off looking more like the victim then anything? And where did that leave Fisk?

Angry. It left the rogue angry seeing that guilt-ridden look on the face of one fucking him. Wrapping a hand around the back of Michael's head, Fisk yanked him down into a forceful kiss. An overly aggressive bite to the knight's lower lip was all the revenge he was going to get, and if nothing else the sharp metallic taste of the small amount of blood it drew was enough to at least momentarily console him.

'Yes, there is no love in this', he thought as he ran his tongue once over the small wound he had made, causing Michael to visibly flinch and jerk away from the other's mouth.

And maybe Michael was a little bit of a masochist himself, because it was just then that his thrusts started to take on a different, more hectic rhythm, his breathing becoming harsher a sign that he was nearing his limit. It was also then that the knight errant shifted slightly and finally hit that small sweet spot inside Fisk, making the rogue's body arch up as he cried out in overwhelming pleasure that continued to build and build as the same spot was hit again and again with each thrust.

Fisk could feel his own climax fast approaching, and it looked as though it was going to be a close race for who would finish first.

"Aaa…! Hnn… M-Michael… I think I'm- nn- about t-to…" He could barely get words out through his cries and whimpers and gasps for breath.

And then, in one blinding moment, both the pain and pleasure came to a head and with a wordless cry, he found his release. The power of his orgasm caused his muscles to spasmodically squeeze tighter around Michael's length, which seemed to trigger his end as well as Fisk felt a warm sticky substance fill him.

Once he had completely released, Michael, still panting in an effort to regain his breath removed himself from his companion before collapsing on the bed beside him.

As his own breathing calmed, Fisk turned his gaze to his utterly spent looking companion and smirked.

Though he felt as though his ass was being torn apart with even the smallest movement, the rogue forced himself to shift closer to his companion, pressing his body close to his in what would have been seen as a show of affection were it not for the spiteful look of bitter vindication in his eyes.

Slowly Michael's breathing started to level out, and his head started to clear as he came down from the intense wave of pleasure. Instead of looking at Fisk, who had pressed himself even closer to him, the knight's eyes drifted downward, eyes widening in shock, and then intense self-deprecating guilt as he saw the traces of blood mixed with the semen that remained on his now flaccid cock.

"See? Wasn't this what you wanted?" Fisk asked as if in response to Michael's unpleasant realization.

Michael didn't answer him, but he didn't have to because Fisk knew he had won.

Michael's gut clenched painfully because he knew now that there was nothing he could say to convince Fisk otherwise.

End

_Sorry for such a tragic unhappy ending! I had to do it cause I'm just a bitch like that lol. Anyway, if you've made it this far, please review!_


End file.
